


Her Best Friend's Wedding

by SmilesLikeIMeanIt



Category: Brittana - Fandom, Glee
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, eventual Brittana, jealous santana, quinntana friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilesLikeIMeanIt/pseuds/SmilesLikeIMeanIt
Summary: Santana Lopez is stunned when she learns her best friend Brittany is soon to be married. Fresh off a break up, unwilling to admit the feelings she's long since hidden, and refusing to attend the wedding as a lonely single, Santana enlists her friend and colleague Quinn to play the role of her fake girlfriend.
Relationships: Brittana - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Santana Lopez hated Wednesdays more than any other day of the week. She was almost always guaranteed to be in a bad mood on a Wednesday. She put this largely down to the seemingly endless stream of meetings-that-could-have-been-emails that clogged up her calendar, and the fact that she had always found Wednesdays to be neither here nor there, not carrying quite the gloominess of a Monday but just that bit too far away from Friday for her liking. This particular Wednesday was shaping up to be no different, though she had received the perfect avocado with her eggs at breakfast, and the take away coffee warming up her hands against the chilly December air was the exact level of scalding that she liked – flawless avocados and coffee so exemplary and so hot it could almost burn through the cup were usually a sign her day was going to be good. She didn’t get her hopes up though, blowing the steam emanating from the small hole in the lid of her cup, she reminded herself it was Wednesday and everything was bound to go to shit sooner or later.

Her heels clicked as she made her way through the sliding glass doors, she nodded politely to the burly security man behind the front desk who offered her a crooked smile of acknowledgement in return. When she reached the elevator she pressed the button quickly three times knowing it wouldn’t make it come any faster but trying nonetheless, keenly watching as the LCD numbers made their way downwards towards her floor. She had stalled a bit at breakfast hoping to miss the usual elevator small talk of colleagues she honestly found draining, but she was starting to run late and the only think she hated more than mindless workplace chatter, was being late. 

She let out a sigh of relief when the elevator finally came to a stop in front of her, scurrying inside, she quickly hit the number for her floor. 

“Hold the door!” A familiar voice called urgently from a little away. Santana contemplated ignoring their plea but she’d had a good morning so far and she didn’t want to add bad karma to a Wednesday, so instead, she pressed the button to hold the doors open, her best, practiced bitch face in place, not surprised to see a frenzied Rachel Berry bolt through the door, carrying a comically large folder in her arms, bag sliding half way down her arms. Rachel was always late, which irked Santana to no end, her joke about liking to make an entrance wasn’t funny the first time Santana had heard it, and certainly wouldn’t be funny in 10 minutes when she echoed it again at their morning huddle. Rachel however did seem surprised to see Santana in the elevator. “Oh, hi Santana, cutting it tight this morning?”

Santana narrowed her eyes and kept a stare straight ahead, releasing a calming breath through her nose, before offering a clipped “Morning Rachel.”

Neither girl made any effort to speak beyond that, instead allowing the dated elevator music to fill the small space with an awkward tension. When the ding sounded as the made it to the 11th floor, Santana brushed past Rachel to get out of the elevator first, not offering to help the struggling girl with her clunky items.

“You’re late.” The blonde smirked behind a mug of tea almost as large as her face as Santana approached her desk.

It wasn’t accusatory, just a simple statement and it earned her a playful scowl from Santana.

“I’m exactly on time.” 

“That’s Santana Lopez late.” 

“Well I paid the price by having to share a confined space with Rachel Berry for 2.3 minutes, so lesson learned.”

Quinn laughed.

“Rachel’s not so bad when you get to know her.” 

“I’ll just take your word for it.” Santana said, placing her coffee cup on her desk and removing her laptop from her Marc Jacobs satchel. 

They made their way to the conference room just before nine, securing two seats at the furthest end of the long table, watching as their colleagues meandered slowly and unenthusiastically in behind them. 

“Good morning everyone!” Will greeted cheerfully, taking his seat at the top of the table, pulling up this morning’s agenda on the giant monitor to the right of Quinn.

Like clockwork, the conference room door burst open, revealing Rachel and that obnoxiously large folder. “Sorry I’m late everyone, I like to make an entrance.”

Santana rolled her eyes while a few people around her laughed out of politeness. Will gave Rachel a tense smiling, responding with his usual “How nice of you to join us”, it had become so routine that Santana often found herself wondering if this was some cruel real life version of groundhog day she’d be forced to repeat until she rectified some wrong she wasn’t aware of.

“Seriously, there is no need for that meeting to go on as long as it does.” Santana noted as she and Quinn returned to their desk. “I don’t even know why Will insists on opening any topic up for discussion when it just turns into the Rachel Berry show, and honestly no one has contributed anything useful to that meeting in months!”

Quinn let out a tired sigh in agreement, “I know, I can’t even bring myself to think about how many hours of my life have been wasted in that room that I’ll never get back.” 

“Right?” Santana holds her hand up for Quinn to give her a subtle high five. 

Quinn was the only person who made her work day bearable, and probably her best friend in this lonely city. They’d hit it off pretty quick, Santana recalls Quinn making a scathing comment about an awful client which made Santana laugh for what felt like the first time since moving here. They shared a playful, easy banter, sometimes verging on flirtatious but that wasn’t a line Santana was willing to cross when there were so few people here she could tolerate. 

“So, I think there’s a few people going for drinks after work, wanna come with?” Quinn asked absentmindedly, tapping away on her keyboard in an effort to fit in some actual work before their next meeting.

“No thanks, I have a date with Elaine.”

Quinn stopped typing and swivelled her chair so she was facing Santana. 

“Oooh Elaiiine.” 

“Shut up.” Santana scoffed with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Things are getting pretty serious between you two,” Quinn noted, turning her attention back to her screen, “What’s it been, two months?”

“Three.” Santana corrected, her own surprise evident in her tone. She hadn’t been looking for anything serious when she started dating Elaine, but she was funny, and smart, and gorgeous, and Santana enjoyed her company. Santana had barely even realised they had been dating until Quinn pointed out that they probably were since they spent most nights and every weekend together, and Elaine seemed to think it was obvious when Santana brought it up in conversation. 

“Have you two made it official?” Quinn asked, in her very non-prying Quinn way.

“I think so?” Santana wasn’t sure, though neither had mentioned any interest in dating anyone else.

This grabbed Quinn’s attention again, scooting her chair and knocking into Santana’s, startling her. “You haven’t had the talk?”

Santana furrowed her brow in confusion, “What talk?”

“The girlfriend talk? Honestly Santana sometimes you are so oblivious.”

Santana laughed, “People actually still do that? Isn’t that a little high school?”

“Oh absolutely, but you still need to have the talk.” Scooting back to her own side of the cubicle, she clarified, “So you’re both clear on where you stand.”

Santana’s stomach coiled with anxiousness, she hadn’t dated anyone seriously since high school, sure there were a few potential love interests in college but they never made it to the point where a conversation of labels seemed remotely necessary. She wasn’t even sure she wanted Elaine to be her girlfriend, but why not? She began to think back over the last three months and how she felt being around Elaine, she made her happy, they had fun together, she wasn’t overly keen on the idea of Elaine having sex with other people, but was that all there was to it? She considered the other adult relationships she had been exposed to, there were her parents who still held hands on the street and kissed each other goodbye every morning, her neighbour down the hall and his girlfriend who never stopped smiling and stealing glances at one another - she often worried they’d miss a step on the stairs from gazing into one another’s eyes, and Rachel and her boyfriend Finn, who she’s fortunately only witnessed together a handful of times but who were always touching and kissing. Sure she and Elaine were clearly attracted to one another, but their passion and affection was mostly reserved for behind closed doors. Maybe that changes with labels? 

She was snapped from her musings by Quinn’s hand waving in front of her face, “Earth to Santana, helloooo.” 

“Sorry.” She said absently, standing and grabbing her laptop and notepad for their next meeting. 

“Don’t apologise to me, it Sue’s wrath you’ll suffer if we’re late.” Quinn teased, pushing her distracted friend playfully down the hall.

By the time she’d reached her apartment, all Santana wanted to do was run a hot bath, pour a large glass of wine, and listen to her favourite podcast; she had half contemplated calling Elaine to cancel, partly due to exhaustion but mostly after the spiral Quinn had sent her on earlier, but Elaine text to confirm they were still on as Santana was packing up to leave the office and she didn’t want to disappoint her. Not wanting to disappoint someone meant they were important, right? 

She was still lost in her thoughts as she applied a light layer of lipstick to her plump lips, music blaring through her bedroom speakers in a measly effort to drown them out, she wouldn’t have heard her phone buzzing on the nightstand but the light from the screen brightened, indicating someone was calling. She silenced the music with the tiny remote and moved toward her phone, silently hoping it was Elaine wanting to their cancel their plans so she could buy herself more time to digest this whole girlfriend prospect. 

But it wasn’t Elaine.

Santana beamed down at the Caller ID and its accompanying photograph, two sun kissed faces smiling back her, cheeks pressed together, wind blowing a mess of blonde and brown hair together in a chaotic frenzy. She didn’t hesitate before answering, “Hey Britt!”

“Santana! I’m so glad I caught you.” Santana could hear the smile in Brittany’s voice, and it encouraged one of her own. “You’re not busy are you?”

Santana took a seat at the corner of her bed assuring her, “Never too busy for you Britt-Britt.”

Brittany giggled at the other end of the line and it made something warm in Santana’s chest. “So, what’s up?”

“Oh not much, only that I got ENGAGED!!”

The smile fell from Santana’s face when she heard the excited screeching of multiple people from the other end of the line, it was clear Brittany wasn’t alone. 

“Wh-wh-wait, hold up, you got engaged?” Santana saw the way her brow furrowed in the reflection of her mirror but for once she wasn’t concerned about the potential wrinkles this could cause her in the future. “To who?”

“To Sam, dummy!” Brittany’s explanation did nothing to quell Santana’s confusion, she wracked her brain trying to think of who Sam was. Surely she’d have remembered her best friend talking about someone so significant?

She thought back on their recent conversations, sure they had been less lately, Santana was busy with work, and Elaine, and Brittany had her dance class, and the bakery with her mom, but they talked, and Santana was drawn completely a blank on any Sam. 

Her silence must have spoken volumes because Brittany clarified, “Santana, I told you about Sam. He’s comes to my beginners class on Wednesdays.” 

“The guy with the giant lips and inappropriate hip thrusting?” She asked as the penny dropped. 

“That’s the one.” Brittany laughed at Santana’s description of her fiancé, “And he’s reigned in the hip thrusting.” 

Santana was in shock, she thought back to that conversation they had had over facetime with a bottle of wine, “Britt, didn’t you just meet him like a month ago?” 

Brittany’s laughter began to die down when she wasn’t receiving the response Santana supposes she had expected, but how could she pretend to be happy when her best friend was telling her she was engaged to someone she barely knew? She knew Brittany was spontaneous albeit a little reckless, it’s one of the things she loved most about her, but this was extreme, even for Brittany. 

“It’s been almost two months,” Brittany replied, quiet and defensive. She knew Santana better than anyone and was telling her without words that she didn’t want the lecture. 

“You love him?” Santana asked, ignoring the way her stomach dropped as she waited for a response. 

“Of course I do, silly! I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t.” 

Santana felt physically sick, she wanted to lie down but she had just perfected her curls and she didn’t have time to re-do them. She should have known this day would come eventually, not that she’d ever given it any thought, but she figured if she had she would have expected to have at least gotten to vet Brittany’s future husband, give her approval. All her life Brittany had been her special thing, she wasn’t ready to face the prospect of sharing her with someone else forever, definitely not someone she’d never even met, it left a hollow feeling coursing through her entire abdomen. 

“Say something Santana?” Brittany’s voice was hopeful, and though frustrated tears burned in the corners of her eyes and an uncomfortable lump had formed in her throat, she mustered up her best congratulations Britt.

“I gotta go Britt, I’m meeting Elaine.” She excused herself, not trusting her voice to not crack and betray her. 

“OK!” Brittany’s voice was light and happy, a stark contrast to how Santana suddenly felt, “Tell her I say hi!”

“I will.” 

“Oh and Santana?” 

“Yes Britt?” 

“Will you be my maid of honour?” 

She didn’t think there was any wind left in her to knock out but with that simple, innocent request from her best friend, Santana felt like she had been sucker punched in the gut. She wanted to say no, that this whole thing was preposterous, but she couldn’t, she should have expected the request, and she was too stunned and an odd, unexpected, inexplainable sadness weighed on her, surrendering her fight. “Of course, Britt!” 

They hung up the phone with Brittany promising to call her the following day with more details, Santana didn’t even want to know how they’d gotten to a point where there were details to discuss but she didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

She stood and released a steadying breath, looking to the sky to try contain the tears that threatened to fall. On autopilot, she gathered her things and left to meet Elaine, ignoring her neighbour Mike, and his adoring girlfriend who looked at her strangely and asked if she was ok.

The bar was busier that she would have expected for a Wednesday. Santana had opted to walk instead of getting a cab, she needed the cold, crisp air to provide some much needed oxygen to her lungs; the walk had done her good, but she was late, and Elaine didn’t look impressed. 

“You’re late.” She echoed Quinn’s words from earlier but instead of shooting back with a witty response, Santana just nodded and offered to go get them a drink. 

When she returned she took a generous gulp of her martini, grateful for the way the vodka burned down her throat and warmed her belly. 

“You ok?” Elaine asked, taking a small, cautious sip from her beer, eyes staring suspiciously at Santana.

Santana nodded, giving a forced smile, “Yeah, I just got some unexpected news is all but I’m good.”

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Santana just shook her head, she hadn’t really talked about Brittany much to Elaine, her name had only come up in relevant stories of Santana’s childhood and hometown. She had never really thought about it before but Santana hadn’t wanted to share more of Brittany than that with Elaine, just the surface stuff. She knew she was consciously doing it at the time, holding back talking about Brittany, because she knew once she started she would start gushing about her amazing best friend and how great and funny and beautiful she was, and Santana had told herself that she didn’t want Elaine to feel jealous or threatened by Brittany, but sitting here now she wasn’t sure that was exactly why. 

Elaine didn’t push her for more information, in fact, she seemed a little distracted herself, toying with the condensation of her glass, “Ok. If you’re sure…” she was making Santana nervous with how uncharacteristically skittish she suddenly seemed, “There’s actually something I was hoping to talk to you about.” 

She finally looked up and made eye contact with Santana for the first time since she had arrived, and Santana’s mind raced back to her earlier conversation with Quinn. Though she hadn’t had a chance to complete her internal panicked pros and cons list at home or on the way there, she felt more certain sitting in from of Elaine now, that she didn’t think girlfriend felt right. But then Brittany and her ridiculous engagement popped into her head again and she figured, if Brittany’s moving on to a new chapter in her life, so should she, so she made the silent decision to just go with the label flow and figure it out later. So she nodded at Elaine, encouraging her to continue with the most genuine smile she could muster. 

She knew she wasn’t ready for this conversation, but she knew Elaine was into her and it would make her happy, and Santana was happy too… she thinks. This was a good idea, she reasoned with herself , she wasn’t ready but she was as ready as she’d be any time soon. After all her efforts at hyping herself up, she was in fact completely not ready at all for the words that followed.

“I think we should break up.” 

Santana face lingered in between a happy-ish smile and utter confusion, “I’m sorry, what?” 

The volume of her voice was louder than she intended but justifiable considering how completely blindsided she’d just been. 

“Santana, please.” Elaine pleaded, looking around self-consciously at the few stares Santana had garnered.

Uncaring of their small audience but having enough self-respect not to cause a scene, Santana leant in closer to Elaine, her voice low in a vicious whisper, “You’re breaking up with me?!”

Elaine, no longer capable of looking Santana in the eye, followed a droplet of condensation down her glass until gathered in a tiny pool on the table, and gave a mournful nod. 

“Are you going to tell me why?” Santana asked, incredulous, gesturing in the air with her hands in the way she only did when she was livid.

Elaine just shrugged, “There’s just something missing.” 

Santana faltered a little at her words, calming. As soon as she heard them she knew she agreed. That would explain the internal panic she had felt all afternoon. 

Unsure of what else to say, and exhausted from the events of the day, Santana just nodded, “Ok.”

Elaine looked back up at her, surprise evident on her face. “Ok?”

Santana shrugged, “You’re right.”

“You’re not even going to argue?”

Santana just shook her head. 

“Guess this is it?”

“Guess so.” Santana downed what was left of her martini before slapping her hands lightly on the table and rising, “See you around.” 

It was the most clean cut break up Santana had ever had, even the fleeting romances of college came to a more fiery end, but Santana just didn’t have the fight in her. 

When she arrived back in her apartment, she silently removed her make up and changed into comfortable pyjamas, she set her alarm for the morning, turned off the light, and nestled comfortably under her lager duvet for just a moment before throwing it off of her in a huff and screaming into the darkness of the room. If her neighbours heard her, no one came running to see if she was ok. Fucking Wednesday she thought as she begrudgingly reached for the heavy blanket again and willed herself to try and sleep. 

Her attempt at forcing herself to sleep proved futile, she was sure she had gotten four hours at best; she had groaned when her alarm went off and hit snooze so many times she didn’t have time for her usual breakfast routine, grabbing a croissant and cheap coffee from the cart across the street from her office instead.

The coffee was lukewarm and too sweet even without milk, she scrunched her nose up and tossed it aggressively into the trash can in the elevator lobby. 

“Woah! Someone’s in a good mood.” She glared at the source of the teasing, it was Blaine from advertising, and he recoiled under her gaze. She was sure had his hair not been gelled so firmly in place that it would have stood on end, but even the thought couldn’t bring the faintest smile to her face. 

She clamoured into the cramped elevator, particularly annoyed by the monotonous music and the sound of her colleagues’ cheerful voices discussing the karaoke bar they’d gone to the previous night. Their joy served nothing only to piss her off further. 

As soon as she reached it , she dumped her bag on her desk and slumped in her chair.

“You look like shit.” Quinn noted, blowing on her hot tea, observing Santana curiously. 

“Thanks.” 

She gave her the finger but Quinn ignored it, a look of concern creasing her brow. She knew better than to pry, she wasn’t a nosy person which was something Santana appreciated. 

“Elaine broke up with me.” She offered when the weight of Quinn’s concerned gaze grew too heavy. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Quinn said sincerely, taking a sip from her tea. 

“And my best friend got engaged to a total stranger so now I gotta worry about her getting murdered by a deranged serial killer who probably just wants her life insurance, on top of everything.” 

“OK, I think we need to put you on a crime podcast hiatus!”

This managed to garner the ghost of a smile from Santana. 

“You’re not happy for Brittany?” There was a curiosity to her tone that Santana hadn’t been expecting, she half expected Quinn to bite back in faux-offense that she thought she was her best friend. 

Santana didn’t want to get into it, it was early and she still hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee, so she just shrugged hoping that Quinn would take the hint and leave it at that for now. 

She did. 

Santana pulled out her laptop and began scouring through her emails, wondering how they could build up so fast when she quickly spotted one that wasn’t quite like the others, the title was fully capitalised, shouting at her from the inbox. 

Subject: I’M GETTING HITCHED!

Hey San, 

Sorry for adding to the million emails you always complain about but I was too excited to wait until tomorrow to call you and I didn’t want to distract you with texts while you’re on your date. 

Thank you for saying yes to being my maid of honour!!! There’s no one I want standing up there with me on my big day more than you.

Santana smiled, thinking of how beautiful Brittany would look in a while dress, her hair soft and most-likely half pulled back in the way she had always said she would wear it on her wedding day.

I know it’s all super sudden and I know you’ll probably think it’s reckless but this world is crazy and the ice caps are melting and I’m pretty sure they’ve removed Friends from Netflix which is criminal but anyways, we figure, why wait?! So we’re getting married on New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house in Port Rhodes. 

Santana felt a thick heaviness in her chest as she read, she had nothing but great memories at Brittany’s grandparent’s home and this feeling didn’t fit with them.

Can’t wait to see you!! You need to visit more.

Oh! And bring Elaine!! I’m starting to think you’ve made her up.

Lots of love,

Britt xx

Santana folded her hands on her desk and banged her head semi-gently against them. 

Ceasing her banging before she bruised, she looked to the calendar on her computer, two weeks, her Brittany was getting married in two weeks.

Placing her head in her hands she groaned only loud enough for Quinn to hear. 

“You ok over there?” Quinn asked over her shoulder, eyes remaining on the document in front of her. 

“Oh yeah, fantastic.” Santana mumbled into her hands, “Brittany’s getting married in two weeks, and invited Elaine, so not only do I have to tell her that we broke up the same day she got engaged, I’m gonna have to go to the wedding alone as the single bridesmaid.” 

Quinn chuckled silently to herself at Santana’s dramatics. 

“Relax, being a single bridesmaid isn’t a staple of failure, no one will care!” 

“These people will. It’s a town full of old wenches who love nothing more than to gossip. I would know, I’ve been the hot topic on more than one occasion.” 

Santana lifted her head from her hands, staring at Quinn, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

Her stare bore into Quinn deep enough she turned her attention to Santana with a suspicious stare. 

“What?” 

Santana titled her head to the side, considering Quinn for a moment longer, she was cute, well educated, Santana knew she could hold a conversation, her sense of humour was good, she was confident without being cocky and people seemed to like her. 

“Stop looking at me like that, you’re weirding me out.” Quinn laughed nervously. 

“You could come with me?”

Quinn turned her chair to face Santana full on, smiling in amusement.

“You’re joking.” 

“Come on! Why not?” 

Quinn scoffed.

“Because I can assure you that bringing your colleague to a wedding is even more pathetic than going alone.” 

“AH HA!” Santana pointed a triumphant finger at Quinn, “You admit that going alone would be pathetic!”

“It’s not.” 

Santana scooted her chair closer to Quinn, bracing her hands on her co-worker’s arm rests, their knees touching, her expression serious when she pleaded, “Please.”

Quinn for her part, looked sorry for Santana, her friend rarely admitted when she needed help, so after short deliberation she conceded.

“Really?” Santana beamed.

She nodded, “Really.” 

Clapping her hands together, Santana moved back to her side of the cubicle, she was about to start working on her next presentation, pausing for a moment and throwing a guilty look over her shoulder, “Will you pretend to be Elaine?”

Quinn looked at her like she had grown an extra head. 

“I know, I know it’s crazy.” Santana brushed off, shaking her head at herself as she returned to her document. 

Realising that this request went deeper than Santana would admit, Quinn reluctantly agreed. 

“But you owe me BIG time, Lopez.” 

Santana bolted from her seat and wrapped Quinn in an impossibly tight hug.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” 

Quickly composing herself, Santana released her grip on Quinn, stood, straightening out her blouse and smiled.

“Anything you want.”


	2. Chapter 2

Santana tightened her grip around the handle of her Louis Vuitton cabin bag, freshly manicured nails digging slightly into her palm as she speed walked through the crowds of frenzied fellow travellers, Andy Williams’ It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year playing faintly over the sound system. There was something magically chaotic about airports at Christmas time and though she normally hated large crowds of people, she basked in the commotion of it all. 

“Slow down Santana, what’s the rush?”

Santana smirked over her shoulder at Quinn who was struggling to keep up.

“You know you should really join me on my morning run, you’re out of shape, Fabray.” 

She felt more than more than saw the glare Quinn burned into the back of her head.

“I’m anything but out of shape thankyouverymuch.” 

Ignoring her friend, Santana maintained her pace. She had been pleasantly surprised when Quinn had inquired about their travel itinerary. When she had requested her assistance in this admittedly foolish plan she had assumed Quinn would join her at a later date closer to the wedding, but Quinn seemed more than happy to avoid her family’s devoutly Christian Christmas festivities. Santana had warned that her own Catholic mother would most definitely insist they attend mass on Christmas Eve but Quinn assured her that was a very small compromise in comparison. 

“Seriously, why are you sprinting?” Quinn called from behind, sounding mildly breathless, “We have plenty of time before the flight.” 

Quinn was right, Santana had a strict rule of being at the airport at least 3 hours before a flight, a routine she had adopted from her father. 

“Relax,” She called back, “We’re almost there.”

When they reached the bar nearest their gate, Santana wasn’t surprised to feel Quinn crash into her, clearly not anticipating the sudden stop. Gesturing to the packed bar in front of them, she turned to an expectant Quinn with a playfully serious expression, “There’s no way I’m doing this sober.” 

“I’ll drink to that!”

*

Santana raised her hand, fingers delicately parted, grabbing the bartender’s attention with a trained ease. She didn’t miss the way the young man’s gaze lingered, eying her with an appreciative stare. He was tall, with broad shoulders, tan skin, and jet black hair; in another life, if she were straight and maybe ten years younger, she might have considered him attractive, may have even batted her eyelids and complimented him so he’d prioritise their orders and add a little extra alcohol, but instead she just rolled her eyes and ordered a vodka on the rocks in a droll tone which implied his mere presence bored her. 

He nodded, a coquettish smile playing on his lips. Rolling her eyes again, she held up two fingers, “Actually, make it a double.” 

“And for your friend?” He asked, raising a flirtatious brow– he had gumption, she’d give him that.

“I’ll just take a gin and tonic, thanks.” Quinn ordered politely, turning in her chair to face Santana, “OK, so tell me about Brittany.” 

Santana gave her a puzzled look. 

“I’ve told you about Brittany.” 

The expression on Quinn’s face let Santana know she was expecting more but the bartender returned with their drinks and Santana was grateful for the distraction. 

“Have you two ever… you know?” Quinn persisted, her words riddled with implication that caused Santana’s whole body to stiffen. She could only hope Quinn didn’t notice, but she knows she did, Quinn is incredibly observant.

Taking a generous gulp of her drink to bide herself some time, Santana relished the way the vodka burned a steady path down her throat before gathering in a warm pool in her belly, acutely aware of Quinn’s patient gaze as the blonde sipped at her own drink, finally relenting. 

“She’s my best friend, ok? I just don’t want her wasting her first marriage on some shmuck.” 

This garnered an amused smile from her friend and Santana hated the way that Quinn could make her feel like she was somehow obligated to share all her deepest darkest secrets with nothing but the slightest quirk of her lip and seemingly innocent arch of her brow. She resisted though. She had worked very hard to keep her Brittany secrets hidden and even Quinn’s impressive skill of prying without actually prying wouldn’t penetrate her resolve.

Picking up on Santana’s impenetrable emotional barrier for this particular topic, Quinn moved the conversation on, idly chatting about work, their weekends, and quietly sniggering at those clearly running very late for departing flights - which only encouraged Santana’s smugness at her insistence on arriving so early for their own.

“Ok, so what should I know about Elaine? Seeing as how she’s my new alter ego and all.” 

Santana considered the question carefully, wracking her brain for every conversation and passing comment she had divulged to those closest to her about Elaine, and then shrugged, ``You don’t really need to know anything, I haven’t talked much about her.”

Quinn simply nodded, “Does she have a job?” 

“Yeah she’s a dancer, but moonlights as a barista downtown.” Santana said., dramatically echoing Elaine’s words from a few weeks back, irked by the memory of Elaine’s insistence that the barista gig was just paying her dues until her big dance break came. 

Quinn laughed, “Not sure your family are gonna buy that when they see my moves on the dancefloor.” 

Santana smirked around the rim of her glass, “Don’t worry, we’ll fake you an injury before it gets to that.” 

“Ah the web of lies thickens.” 

*

Aside from the minor turbulence and the inevitable crying baby two rows back, the flight passed with ease. Only when the flight attendant announced they were beginning their decent did Santana start to panic. What the hell had she been thinking? This was real life, not a Jen Aniston rom-com. And why had Quinn not talked her out of this? They were two educated women, they should have canned this idea the moment those foolish words had rudely escaped Santana’s lips. She grabbed Quinn’s hand in a movement that surprised even herself, and looked to her friend in alarm, “This is a horrible idea. We can’t do this.” 

Quinn laughed which did little to calm Santana’s nerves, she placed a comforting hand over Santana’s and spoke in a slow, calm voice, “Yes, this a truly horrible idea,” she affirmed, pausing briefly to commit Santana’s horrified expression to memory before continuing, “But we’ve come this far, it’s just a couple of days, we can get through it.” 

Unconvinced, Santana nodded, still feeling paralysed with anxiety but returning to her upright position, speaking mostly to herself when she quietly whispered, “We can do this.”

She felt more relaxed by the time they’d reached luggage claim, grateful for Quinn’s calming presence and the easy, playful banter she provided - the in-flight red wine didn’t hurt either. 

Quinn was right, it was only two weeks, less, thirteen days, and Brittany would probably be so busy with wedding stuff she would hardly have time to see Santana, so they really wouldn’t have to spend too much time on their act at all. Sure, she’d also have to convince her parents that she and Quinn were a thing but she would never pile on the PDA in front of them anyway so she figured that wouldn’t be too difficult a task once she remembered to call Quinn Elaine.

When they both had their bags safely in hand, Santana took a steadying breath and turned toward the exit. She had a half a mind to run back toward the plane and refuse to get off until they’d reached Boston, feigning a broken leg or some other casualty that would have prevented her from travelling so last minute, but she had already text her mom to let her know they had safely landed. Quinn must have picked up on her unease because she reached down and took her hand, giving it a gentle, supportive squeeze. The gesture grounded Santana and she smiled at her friend, a smile that quickly turned mischievous as she took a hesitant step toward the sliding doors, “Don’t go falling in love with me, Fabray.” 

Quinn rolled her eyes and scoffed at the mere suggestion, but kept their hands joined as they made their way to the arrivals lounge. Santana scanned the crowds of people for a familiar face, interlinking her fingers with Quinn’s - her mother was picking them up and she figured it would be good for her to see them holding hands to support their façade. If Quinn had minded, she didn’t say anything.

She stood on her tiptoes to get a better look, her mother was short and was no doubt doing the same among the throngs of people welcoming home loved ones. When she still couldn’t find her, she ushered Quinn through the crowds, figuring her mom may have opted to wait out front in the car. Unlike Santana, her mother was not a fan of airports and even less crazy about the traffic that ensued, so it would make sense that she was preparing to make a quick getaway.

Through a small parting in the mob, Santana found their opportunity for exit, she began to beeline for it but stopped abruptly, startled when she spotted familiar blue eyes and her favourite toothy grin, smiling goofily in her direction. 

Brittany began skipping happily towards them and Santana dropped Quinn’s hand quickly, as though it burned to touch.

Her whole body ran cold, and she knew the smile on her face looked forced, Brittany would see right through it. Once again this fake girlfriend charade seemed overwhelmingly impossible. She had never lied to Brittany before, well that’s not entirely true, but she had never lied to her like this. She felt sick at the thought of it, but before she had time to tell Quinn that she couldn’t do it, that she wanted to call it all off for real this time, Brittany had engulfed her in her best Brittany Bear Hug (Brittany’s words) and her opportunity was gone. She reciprocated the hug without hesitation, squeezing her best friend back with equal enthusiasm, taking a moment to inhale the comforting lavender scent of Brittany’s favourite shampoo, savouring the feeling of Brittany’s warm body against hers, relishing the way all of the knots she had felt so tied up in over the last few weeks suddenly began to straighten out.

It was over too soon for Santana’s liking and she shivered as her body adjusted to the loss of Brittany’s warmth. 

“You must be Elaine.” Brittany said, pulling Quinn in to her. If Santana wasn’t all consumed by guilt, and feeling like the worst person on the planet for the deception she was already too far engaged in, she would have found the shock on Quinn’s face at the unexpected affection comical. Quinn was definitely not a hugger.

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Brittany singsonged, swaying the pair of them from side to side while Quinn offered her an awkward pat on the back in return. 

“You too, Brittany.” 

Finally taking a step back but still holding Quinn at arm’s length, Brittany shook her head, “You have to call me Britt.” 

Quinn looked to Santana with an uneasy expression, one that Santana had come to associate with their weekly meetings with Sue, when, without fail they were thrown a curveball question that they couldn’t have possibly prepared for. It was Quinn’s silent way of begging Santana for support. Santana just nodded, encouraging her to roll with it. 

“Sure thing.” Quinn replied with her sweet-as-pie smile that instantly made anyone on the receiving end fall in love with her. Santana envied her easy likability.

“Excellent!” Brittany beamed, “You can ride shotgun.”

Santana pouted, but the way Brittany winked at her as they turned toward the exit forced a smile, and caused her cheeks flood with a warmth that she would blame on the chilly Lima air if anyone passed comment. She knew Brittany was trying to make a good impression on Quinn for Santana’s sake because she was an excellent friend but it didn’t make sharing Brittany’s attention any nicer.

*

The car ride to Santana’s house seemed to take longer than she had remembered it, but she didn’t mind, she enjoyed the low crooning tunes of Bing Cosby flowing softly through the radio and the sound of Brittany’s voice as she engaged in polite conversation with Quinn, asking her the standard questions one would expect the best friend of a significant other to ask. Santana made a mental note of some of them, reminding herself to use them on Sam when she eventually got to meet him. That got her thinking. 

“When do I get to meet Sam?” She asked, interrupting Quinn’s diluted explanation for why she wasn’t upset to be missing out on her family Christmas. It was a fair question for Brittany to have asked, she knew that Santana and Elaine had been dating for a few months but Santana had purposefully never given her the impression they were very serious, definitely not serious enough to sacrifice family Christmas traditions.

“You can meet him tomorrow if you like? It’s his little brother’s Christmas concert tonight so he couldn’t come with to pick you guys up.” 

“You didn’t want to go to the concert?” Santana queried, it seemed like something Brittany would have enjoyed, and it wasn’t like Brittany to bail on something that would have been potentially important to her future in-laws. 

She could see Brittany’s cheeky smile in the rear-view mirror as they turned north on Linkshire boulevard, “Hell no! Not when the one and only Santana Lopez was arriving in town. I didn’t think I’d believe it if I wasn’t there to see it for myself.”

Santana giggled at the accented way Brittany pronounced her name, promising herself she’d visit more before turning her attention back out the window and allowing Brittany and Quinn to resume their conversation. 

The storefronts on Main Street had barely changed since she’d last been home though some had seen a new lick of paint, or spruced up signage. She was sad to see some of her old favourites boarded up - Jane’s, her go-to spot for milkshakes after ballet practice was now a Starbucks, and though she had long since outgrown her affinity for sugary drinks, she lamented at its absence.

“They really splurged on the lights this year.” She noted, enjoying the colourful display casting a glittering glow over the town. 

“Yeah, the new town committee really went all out.”

*

She felt her body relax as they pulled up the driveway of Santana’s house.. She didn’t feel good about lying to her parents either but it was definitely the lesser of two evils, plus, she was eager to put some space between her and Brittany. She worried if she didn’t get away from her soon that she would blurt out the truth and she really didn’t want to see the disappointed look she would no doubt receive. 

“This is your house?” Quinn asked in awe from the front seat.

“Yeah,” Santana brushed off, embarrassed, “Come on.” 

She made a quick exit, rounding the car to gather their luggage, which proved a lot more challenging than she had anticipated due to the awkward way it had shifted in transit. 

“Here let me help you.” Brittany offered, reaching into the trunk to help Santana hoist out her bag, “What have you got in here? Bricks?” 

Santana laughed and while Brittany’s expression was serious, she had that playful glint in her eye that Santana adored.

“Yeah, to knock Sam over the head with if so much as thinks of hurting you.” 

Brittany laughed and thanked her for her gallantry but assured her that Sam was a good guy.

“You need help, Elaine?” Brittany asked, noticing that Quinn seemed to be having equal trouble with her own case, but the question went unanswered which seemed to leave Brittany feeling dejected given how well they had gotten along on the car ride over.

“She’s a little deaf.” Santana explained.

Brittany mouthed ‘Ah’ and returned to her bright demeanour as Quinn eventually manoeuvred her case from the car.

“You didn’t tell me you were old money rich.” Quinn teased as they neared the giant front doors, Brittany trailing a little behind, tapping on her phone. 

“We’re not old money rich.” Santana giggled, “We are very much new money. And I didn’t think it was important.” 

The double doors flew open dramatically before they had reached them and they were greeted with the open arms of Santana’s mother. 

“Welcome home.” She squeaked, dropping the theatrics and running to pull Santana into a hug. 

“Were you like waiting by the window?” Santana laughed, hugging her back. 

“Don’t be silly,” her mother dismissed, pulling back and giving Santana the once over, “Brittany just text me. You look skinny, have you lost weight? Are you eating enough in Boston?”

Santana groaned, “No I haven’t, and yes I am.” 

Her mother didn’t look convinced but soon forgot about her admonishment when she spotted Quinn, replacing her scolding stare for an excited grin. 

“You must be Elaine, it’s so great to meet you. Santana has never brought anyone home before.” 

Quinn shot Santana a look that could have been interpreted as intrigued as she made her way into Maribel’s waiting arms, but Santana knew it was Quinn’s threatening way of telling her she owed her even bigger for all of the hugging she was being forced to endure.

“You girls must be famished, come inside.” 

Maribel ushered the three girls to the entrance hall, linking arms with Quinn and directing her towards the kitchen. 

“You’re staying?” Santana asked, surprised as Brittany closed the doors behind them. 

“Duh.” Brittany answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, before looking to her hands, fidgeting, “Unless you’d rather I leave? You probably want you parents to get to know Elaine, I should have thought-“

“Brittany, stop.” Santana cut her off, taking a step forward and placing two hands on Brittany’s shoulders, “I would love for you to stay. I just figured you might be meeting Sam.” 

Brittany looked beyond her to where Maribel and Quinn were laughing about something in the kitchen, an unfamiliar expression flashing across her face, before turning her attention back to Santana with a shrug, “I see Sam all the time, I’d rather spend tonight with you.” 

Santana’s stomach somersaulted at her words and she tried to convince herself it was the hunger, “Come on, I’m starved.” 

“Where’s dad?” Santana asked, taking ‘her’ seat at the kitchen table and popping a potato chip in her mouth. 

“He’s upstairs on a conference call, you know him.” Her mom waved off,, pouring the girls sizable glasses of wine. 

Brittany placed a hand over the empty glass in front of her, “None for me thanks, I’m driving.” 

Maribel feigned offence as she swatted Brittany’s hand away, “Don’t be silly, you’ll stay here tonight. We’re celebrating.”

“We are?” Santana quizzed suspiciously. 

“Of course, this one is getting married.” Maribel leaned over the corner of the island and pinched Brittany’s cheeks for good measure, then turned to Quinn, “And this is Santana’s first Christmas in Lima in three years. I’m also celebrating not having to travel to Boston for once at Christmas. I hate the airport at this time of year.” 

“Cheers to that.” Quinn raised her glass, tapping it gently against Maribel’s. 

Santana looked to Brittany, nodding to her glass, “You don’t have to drink that.” 

“I know,” Brittany smiled gratefully, “I wouldn’t mind partaking in the celebrations though. But I don’t want to intrude.”

Santana noted how Brittany cast her eyes in the direction of Quinn and her mother who were once again laughing at something the other two girls had missed.

Santana shook her head, “Don’t be silly.Stay.”

Brittany beamed back and visibly relaxed, lifting her glass in the air to toast Santana’s before making her way to the kitchen table where Quinn and Maribel had resituated alongside Santana. 

“So, Elaine, how did you and Santana meet?” 

Santana almost choked on her mouthful of wine - had she told her mother about how they had met? Was this a test? Could she see through their performance? Did Quinn know how she had met Elaine? She doesn’t recall telling her. 

Shit. 

To her credit, Quinn didn’t look at all phased. 

“I work as a barista at this quaint little hole in the wall coffee shop downtown near Santana’s office; one particularly busy morning – we were understaffed and it was the middle of the morning rush – and Santana breezed in, ordering her usual, I hadn’t been working there long and in my frenzy accidentally made hers a decaf, and I think we all know how Santana gets without her morning coffee.” Maribel and Brittany exchanged amused, knowing looks, “So, in her own words, she went all Lima Heights on me, which, I’m still not entirely sure what that means but anyway, I guess she felt guilty because she came back the next day and apologised and then invited me to lunch, and the rest is history.”

Santana smiled at Quinn, silently thanking her for her quick thinking, impressed at how well she had captured Elaine pretension having only met her twice, it was a nice story, and a total fabrication. Santana had met Elaine at a gay bar in the South End. In fact she never frequented Elaine’s coffee shop, finding it all too pretentious and overpriced; the coffee wasn’t even that good. But her mother seemed to buy it so that was one hurdle successfully passed. 

“What’s her usual?” Brittany inquired, a strange question to ask, Santana thought, perhaps Brittany wasn’t so convinced by the tale? But Santana was certain she hadn’t told Brittany how she and Elaine had met, sparing her friend the sordid details of the drunken one night stand it had started out to be. 

“Americano, black, two sweeteners.” Quinn answered without hesitation. 

Brittany nodded, taking a sip of her wine before mumbling, “It used to be hazelnut lattes.”

There was an uncharacteristic petulance to her tone which surprised Santana; if she didn’t know any better, she’d have pegged it for jealousy, but she did know better. Brittany was obviously just disappointed there were things about her she no longer knew.

“I still drink them Britt-Britt.” She half lied with an encouraging smile, hoping it would lift Brittany’s spirits, “I just need something stronger to get me through the day these days, and drinking vodka at work is frowned upon.” 

The joke garnered a smile from Brittany which made Santana feel better. 

The conversation slipped easily into more mundane territory, where Quinn went to college, did she have any siblings, how did she like Boston – questions Quinn could answer honestly as they were topics Santana had definitely not discussed with the other two women.

It was late by the time Santana’s father made an appearance, he was dressed semi-casually in his signature chinos, with his purple button down open at the top two buttons. He smiled when he saw Santana, the same that she saw every time she looked at her reflection in the mirror, eyes crinkling as his grin spread wider the nearer he got to her, arms outstretched, “My baby” he greeted, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as they tightly embraced. Santana felt herself melt into the hug, she missed her father’s strong, protective arms, and the distinct smell of his aftershave, it was a smell that reminded her of safety and home, and that’s exactly what she felt wrapped up by him, safe.

They pulled apart and he turned to Brittany with the same broad grin as she stood up to meet his awaiting arms, “And the beautiful bride.”

It filled Santana with an inexplicable happiness to see her father greet her best friend like a daughter. 

“And you must be Elaine.” He stretched across the table to shake Quinn’s hand, and Santana could tell she was grateful he hadn’t tried to hug her too. Her father understood boundaries.

“What are you girls talking about?” He asked, bending down to peck Maribel on the lips. 

“Oh nothing mi amor, just the usual catch up stuff.” Maribel answered, glancing at her watch, “It’s getting pretty late, I’m going to head to bed.” She yawned. “Are you girls staying up or would you like me to show you to your room, Elaine?”

Santana wasn’t surprised by her mother’s not-so-subtle way of telling Quinn she didn’t condone her sleeping with her daughter under her roof before marriage. Her parents were pretty cool, and totally accepting of her sexuality, but they were still Catholic and thems the rules, as she would always say. 

Both she and Quinn were silently grateful that they didn’t have to carry their charade to bed, Santana knew they could both use their own space to decompress after days weaved with lies. 

Quinn nodded, “That would be great. I’m pretty exhausted.” 

“What about you two?” Maribel asked, standing from the table. 

Santana looked to Brittany, “Fancy a night cap?” 

Brittany nodded. 

“Ok then, night mija,” Maribel pressed a tender kiss to the top of Santana’s head before moving across the table and doing the same to Brittany. Her dad offered them an airy wave as he stretched and left the room ahead of his wife. 

Quinn stood to follow Maribel who was waiting for her at the kitchen door, she went to move before stopping and turning back toward Santana, uncertain as she wished. her goodnight.

She looked awkward, and Santana realised she didn’t know if they should do something more in that moment, if she were honest with herself, Santana hadn’t really thought that far ahead either. After hovering a beat too long, Quinn looked as though she made the decision to go in for a hug but Santana decided to spare her, she’d reached her quota of hugs for the day and Santana didn’t want to push her friend over the edge, so instead she opted for blowing her a kiss, “Night babe.” 

Quinn cringed at the pet name, but it seemed to go unnoticed by her mom and Brittany, she mouthed ‘Thank you’ over the top of Brittany’s head, to which Santana responded with a wink for good measure.

“She seems really great.” Brittany commented as soon as Quinn was out of earshot. 

“Mmhmm” Santana agreed, pouring them a glass of expensive whiskey from her dad’s collection. 

“I’m surprised though, she’s not what I expected.”

Santana raised an eyebrow, making her way back to the table, “No?”

“She’s just,” Brittany paused, considering her words, “Very girl-next-door. I just didn’t peg that for your type.” 

“Oh I think if you recall correctly, the girl next door was very much my type.” Santana joked with a wink, referencing her neighbour who was a couple of years older than them, and who had been a pivotal crush in Santana’s sexual awakening. 

“Touché.” Brittany laughed, lifting her glass to meet Santana’s. 

As their laughter died down, Brittany’s expression grew more serious, “Are you happy?” 

The question was loaded. Santana didn’t want to lie and say yes, because she knew Brittany was referring to her faux-relationship, and that already held too many lies, and she didn’t want to tell the truth, that she was tragically single and was starting to hate her job a little more every day, and now that she was back, Lima didn’t seem so bad. So instead, she countered, “Are you?”

Brittany contemplated it for a moment before giving an apprehensive nod, “I think so.” 

Santana scoffed, “Not sure you should be marrying someone you think makes you happy, Britt.” 

Her words seemed to dig into Brittany, who cast her eyes down to the drink in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Britt.” 

Brittany shrugged, “That’s ok, it’s fair.” 

“Does he not make you happy?” 

“He does, I mean, he’s wonderful.” Brittany insisted, “I mean, he’s attractive, and funny, and thoughtful, and he really cares about me.” 

Santana hoped her smile wasn’t too bitter when she responds, “Sounds like he’s perfect.” 

“He is,” Brittany agrees, staring down at the ice cubes in her glass as though they could act like a crystal ball if she focused hard enough, “I dunno. Do you ever just feel like something’s missing but you can’t put your finger on what?”

Santana didn’t response, just carefully watched Brittany as she swirled the remnants of her whiskey aimlessly around the glass. 

“Sam is great.” She affirmed, looking back up to meet Santana’s eyes, “But I always just feel like true happiness is just that little bit out of reach you know? And not just with Sam, but… always. Maybe that’s just how life is when you grow up.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, so Santana wasn’t sure she was expected to respond, but she did anyway, offering a sad, “Yeah.” 

As if realising she said too much, Brittany placed her glass back on the table, not bothering to finish what was left, “I think I’ve had too much to drink, I better get to bed.”

“Sure.” Santana nodded, reaching for Brittany’s glass and bringing them both to the sink.

They ascended the stairs quietly, more out of habit than practicality as the bedrooms were well spaced out and the carpeted floors muted their footsteps. Santana took a a left at the top of the staircase, pausing only when she noticed Brittany wasn’t following. 

“You ok, Britt?” She whispers into the darkness.

“Which room should I go to?” Brittany whispers back, to Santana’s surprise.

They had plenty of spare bedrooms but it had always been a given that Brittany slept in Santana’s room. Her parents never questioned or objected, and even as adults, it had never seemed strange, it was just a thing they did. 

Did Brittany feel uncomfortable sharing a room with her now she was engaged? 

“Uhm, I mean, you can stay in my room? Unless Sam would have an issue with that? Or… if you feel uncomfortable that’s totally fine, you can stay in the room down the hall?”

She saw Brittany’s silhouetted head shake, “It’s not that. I just- Elaine’s here. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, or make her feel bad.” 

Santana released a relived breath, “Don’t worry about it, Elaine won’t care.” 

“Really?”

Santana nodded, though she wasn’t sure if Brittany could see. 

“Honest. She knows we’re just friends, it’s cool.” 

That seems to satisfy Brittany who follows Santana to her room. They both squint as their eyes adjust to the light, and Santana takes a moment to look around. She always did that when returned home after being away for a while. Her old room was her second favourite thing about Lima (Brittany was the first), it hadn’t changed at all since she left for college. Some of her old text books still sit on the desk nearest the window, her pom-poms hang on top of the corkboard decorated with pictures of her high school friends, and one or two from college, even her bedsheets are the same, or at least something similar. 

“Do you mind if I borrow something to sleep in?” 

“Of course not.”

Santana moves to her dresser, digging through her mess of clothes before tossing an old high school cheerleading t-shirt at Brittany – which, to be honest, could very well have been Brittany’s to begin with – and a pair of black shorts.

They changed quietly with their backs to one another; Santana climbing into her side of the bed first as Brittany moved to turn off the light. Santana tried not to appreciate how good Brittany looked in the fitted black shorts, or how the Cheerios t-shirt clung to her body in all the right places, but failed miserably, just adding to her already present guilt.

Brittany scurried quickly to the bed once the light went out, she was never a big fan of the dark. Once she adjusted to the darkness she must have noticed Santana’s hand thrown over her eyes, silently berating herself for checking out her best friend, and gently pulled her hand away, linking their pinky fingers together. 

“I’m really glad you’re here Santana.” She whispered, squeezing their fingers together gently. 

“I’m glad I’m here too Britt-Britt.” Santana whispered back. 

With one final squeeze of their pinkies, Brittany turned to face the opposite way, through a tired yawn, whispering, “Night, love you.” 

Santana’s heart felt like it had swelled three sizes inside her chest, she was being ridiculous, she knew that, they had made the same declaration every night of high school, and most nights through college, not as frequently lately but it was another habit of theirs, still she could help the knot that had formed quickly in her throat making it difficult to swallow let alone talk, “Love you too, Britt. Sweet dreams.”  
*

The glaring light of the sun crept cruelly through the slight gap in her curtains, creating a straight line of rays directly to Santana’s face – would it have killed her parents to add a blackout blind to the untouched shrine that was her childhood bedroom? She stirred, willing her eyes to remain shut, she had been having the most wonderful dream and she was sure she could make it back if she could just cling to that last morsel of sleep, but her efforts were fruitless. She sighed to herself, definitely not yet willing to get up and face the day. 

She went to nestle deeper into her covers when she felt a light weight holding them in place; chancing a glance, she immediately recognised the milky skin and delicate fingers splayed carelessly over her torso – in her semi sleep haze she had forgotten Brittany had stayed with her the previous night. She unconsciously held her breath, fearing that even the slightest movement would wake Brittany. Sure, they had often woken up in a mess of tangled limbs – Brittany was an incredibly restless sleeper as a teenager – but nevertheless, she didn’t want to spook her; there was also a selfish part of her that relished in the minor contact. 

A firm knock on the door startled Brittany awake, her eyes flittering open with difficulty until they found Santana and she offered her a lazy smile.

Santana’s brief moment of bliss was short lived as Quinn, not waiting for an invitation, barged in, stopping short at the sight of the two girls nestled so closely in Santana’s bed. Had Brittany not been in such a panicked frenzy to remove her arm from where it lay across Santana, she would have noticed the smirk on Quinn’s face. Santana glared at the pixie haired blonde, wondering if she was in fact an evil nymph set upon her to aid in her own self sabotage. 

“What do you want Q…” Santana snarled before catching herself, “..utie?” 

Her tone didn’t match her affectionate nickname but Brittany was too distracted to notice, sitting upright next to Santana with wide eyes and the expression of a child who had been found with their hand in the cookie jar.

Quinn sucked her lips into her mouth to keep from laughing, quickly composing herself with a warning look from Santana.

“Your mom told me to come get you for breakfast.” 

Santana flopped back against her pillows, wanting to comfort Brittany but knowing there was nothing she could say or do while Quinn was still standing there. 

“Sorry for barging in,” Quinn threw her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the open door, “There’s like eight bedrooms in this place and your mom’s instructions were vague, I’ve just been trying all of them.” 

When she didn’t receive a response from either girl, Quinn walked backwards toward the door, “I’ll see you girls downstairs” she said mischievously, closing the door with a gentle click behind her. 

Brittany flopped back against the pillows next to Santana, covering her face with both hands. Santana barely heard her muffled, “What a disaster.” 

Leaning up on to one elbow and pulling Brittany’s hands away from her face, similar to how Brittany had done to her the night before, she cupped Brittany’s cheek with her free hand, hoping her expression conveyed the sincerity of her words, “Trust me Britt, that was not a disaster.” 

Brittany shot up cartoonishly at Santana’s interpretation of how that interaction had gone. 

“How was that not a disaster, Santana? Youe new, super-hot girlfriend who I’m trying to make a good impression on, just walked in on me spooning you?!”

Santana giggled, “You were hardly spooning me, Britt.”

“Even so.” 

Even pouting, Brittany was the cutest thing Santana had ever seen. She tapped her chin, the way she used to do in high school when Brittany was upset that Lord Tubbington had read her diary, and Brittany lifted her head to look Santana in the eye. 

“I promise you Britt. Elaine will love you, who wouldn’t?” 

Brittany smiled, and Santana extended her hand to her. 

“Come on, let’s go eat.”


	3. Chapter 3

Brittany didn’t waste any time in making a quick exit after breakfast, promising Santana she’d return the clothes she’d borrowed when they met up for lunch – though Santana had assured her that she looked fine in what she had slept in, Brittany had insisted on borrowing a pair of sweats and an oversized sweater from Santana’s college collection before joining the others downstairs. 

Breakfast had been mostly silent other than some clinking cutlery and polite chatter about what they all had planned for the day, brief mentions of Brittany’s wedding here and there that Santana directed in a different direction each time, and fleeting plans to meet later that day at Breadstix. Brittany was clearly uncomfortable about breaking bread with Quinn after the morning’s events, wolfing down her bacon in record time in an effort to make a hasty escape , but Quinn remained ever courteous and Santana was grateful for her efforts to put Brittany at ease, even if it was futile.

Once they had waved her off, Santana and Quinn retreated to the backyard. It was modest in size in comparison to the house, but large compared to most gardens, with a decent sized pool and patio area, freshly mowed lawn, a fire pit, and a pool house that was mostly used for storage, it was nothing new to Santana but Quinn was in awe. 

“Your house is amazing.” She complimented. “Why would you ever want to leave?” 

Santana smiled politely in thanks, evading the question and taking a seat opposite the blond at the patio dining table. was uncharacteristically warm for Lima in winter but there was cutting breeze that gave Santana goosebumps; she cupped the mug of coffee between her hands gladly before placing it on the table and tugging her oversized cardigan tightly against her.

She inhaled deeply, basking in the smell of the newly cut grass and the aroma from her freshly brewed coffee, watching as a small robin took a bath in the shallow end of the pool. She felt a serenity that she never felt in Boston, and maybe it was the comforts of home, or the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to think about work for a couple of days, or maybe it was because she woke up with Brittany cuddled into her, but for the first time in what felt like months, she felt truly content. 

“So you two looked pretty cosy this morning,” Quinn observed, smiling roguishly around the rim of her mug and ruining Santana’s momentary bliss. 

“You never did answer my question yesterday.”

Santana pinched her brows together, trying to think of what question Quinn was referring to. 

“When I asked if you and Brittany had ever, you know…” Quinn prompted. 

Santana nodded, taking a large gulp from her cup and regretting it instantly as the hot liquid burned her tongue and palate. 

Quinn laughed, “I guess I should take that as a hard yes?”

Santana exhaled slowly, her breath creating a small cloud in contrast with the cold air. 

“Just let it go, Fabray.”

Her words were warning but her tone lacked its usual vigour.

Santana tried to ignore the weight of Quinn’s silent stare, blowing the steam from her mug gently and taking a smaller sip than before, but the quiet space between them was unrelenting and she knew that Quinn wouldn’t let the subject go until she got some answers.

“We kissed.” 

Silence. 

“Once.” 

She returned her gaze to the pool but the bird was gone; she saw Quinn nod in her peripheral. 

“What happened?” She asked eventually. 

“Nothing happened.” Santana shrugged. “She had a boyfriend – Artie.”

Though she held no resentment for the boy anymore, Santana still felt incapable of saying his name without some level of disdain. Old habits and all that.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Santana affirmed. It was far from it but it was not a conversation to be had over her morning coffee.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, studying Santana carefully before shaking her head, “Bullshit.” 

“What?” Santana laughed, looking back her friend who was smiling wickedly. 

“I call bullshit.” 

“Call it whatever you want, it is what it is.”

“Whatever.” Quinn shrugged, taking a tentative sip from her own cup. “You’ll tell me.”

*

“You’re gonna love this place, Q!” Santana promised excitedly as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “They literally give you all you can eat breadsticks.” 

“No way!” Quinn exclaimed in faux shock, “That’s only the twelfth time you’ve mentioned it.” 

Santana threw her a playful glare as she manoeuvred the car into an empty spot. 

“So what’s the game plan?” Quinn asked, rummaging for something in her purse. 

“Wha- I don’t have a game plan.” Santana responded distractedly – reverse parking had never been her strong suit, she needed to focus.

Once she had placed her father’s precious BMW in park and was satisfied that it was a sae enough distance from the cars on either side, Santana turned to quinn in panic, “You think we need a game plan?”

“This is your show,” Quinn mumbled, busy applying the pale pink lipstick she had been searching for, wiping the corner of her mouth before smacking her lips together for good measure and throwing a wink in Santana’s direction before answering, “I’m just the supporting act.” 

This earned a begrudging smile from Santana. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

Quinn shrugged again, unbuckling her seatbelt, “You love me.” 

Santana was about to roll her eyes when a flash of familiar blonde hair caught her attention across the parking lot. 

“Shit, they’re here.” She hissed, ducking low in her seat.

Brittany was exiting a faded red pick-up truck – presumably Sam’s – wearing a beige, form fitting knitted dress and suede boots that came up just below her knee, her hat with its two baubles would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but on Brittany was nothing if not adorable. She hadn’t spotted Santana yet – this car was new, Brittany may not recognize it she was lucky. 

“Ok, they haven’t seen us yet, let’s wait until they go inside and follow them in.” 

“Great plan.” Quinn teased. 

“I just don’t want to do a whole awkward introduction thing in the parking lot okay? And there is no game plan, just act like you’re in love with me and let’s make it through lunch.”

“Ok, but you’re buying.” Quinn singsonged, exiting the car only when Brittany had disappeared inside the restaurant. 

*  
The restaurant was abuzz in preparation for the lunchtime rush. Servers darted around frantically, replacing cutlery and polishing glasses. Santana had picked this time specifically for them to meet as she knew there was less likelihood of them getting her order wrong, or a delay in the kitchen that would prolong this inevitably torturous introductory meeting. 

The maître d’ – an older woman Santana remembered fondly from her high school years – greeted them with a warm smile and a quick “Nice to see you” in Santana’s direction. She didn’t bother to ask them what name their reservation was under, instead ushering them in the direction of Santana’s favourite booth where Brittany was already seated, waving enthusiastically. 

The girls thanked the woman as she handed them their menus and told them their server would be along shortly. 

“You guys made.” Brittany said joyfully, as though she had expected them not to. 

“You know I’d never miss ma ‘stix.” Santana joked, picking up her menu and pretending to peruse its contents, knowing full well what she was going to order. Quinn cleared her throat and gave Santana a discreet, but surprisingly sharp elbow to the ribs, nodding her head to the pair seated across the table when Santana turned to retaliate. 

Santana followed her gaze to a disapproving look from Brittany and an awkward looking man with large lips and shaggy blonde hair, who shuffled his hands together on top of the table, not quite sure what to do with them. 

Hating that Brittany looked disappointed, she attempted to make a fast recovery, “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot, of course, hi I’m Santana.” 

Sam looked relieved and took her waiting hand in earnest. 

“So great to finally meet you Santana. Brittany talks about you so much I feel like I know you already.” 

“Wish I could say the say the same…” Santana muttered, forcing a smile and withdrawing from his grasp.

“What was that?” He leaned in looking confused. 

“I said this is Elaine.” She enunciated loudly, pointing to Quinn. 

He smiled again and extended his hand to Quinn. As they engaged in light conversation about their flight and what Quinn thought of Lima so far – which derailed into Sam telling some you-had-to-be-there hilarious story of his first time in town – Santana took the opportunity to give him the once over. He was cute, even Santana could admit that, even if his lips were too big for his face and he sort of looked like a cartoon character, his smile was kind and genuine, he didn’t strike her as the sharpest tool in the box but Brittany seemed to laugh at all his jokes so she supposes he didn’t need an Einstein IQ if he had comedy on his side, he did impressions ¬– a lot of impressions – that were pretty good and something she could tell Brittany would enjoy, and he spoke about Brittany with a pride that Santana couldn’t fault. She concluded that if he weren’t marrying Brittany and stroking her leg beneath the table as they waited for their food, she could potentially like him. 

“So what do you girls have planned while your in town?” Sam asked around a mouthful of pasta, gesturing between himself and Brittany as he swallowed, “I mean besides the wedding.” 

Santana cringed at the mention of their upcoming nuptials which Quinn must have sensed, taking Santana’s hand where it rested on the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Oh nothing much, just regular ‘ole Christmas things, baking sugar cookies, decorating gingerbread houses, drinking too much.” Quinn answered, smiling lovingly at Santana as she did so. 

Santana’s focus was across the table and she didn’t miss the way Brittany’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ghost of a pout forced it’s way on to her lips; she didn’t have to ask to know that Brittany loved decorating gingerbread houses, it had always been their Christmas tradition, from grade school right through college they never missed a year. 

“You should join us!” The words left her mouth before she had time to consider her audience, and though the invitation was aimed at Brittany, Sam accepted with enthusiasm. 

“That sounds awesome. Hey?” He turned to Brittany who had perked up considerably at Santana’s offer, “We could do it at our place! Invite some of the others, make a thing of it.” 

“You’re living together?” 

Her brain didn’t have time to tell her mouth not to sound so betrayed by the news. 

“Well, not officially.” Brittany replied quickly, unable to meet Santana’s stare. “I just stay there… sometimes.” 

“Well, not sometimes Britt, more like all the time, and most of your stuff is there.” Sam pressed, clearly not sensing the palpable tension created by the revelation. 

Sam beamed with pride but Brittany looked guilty, the way she always did when she’d been caught out in a lie. 

Gathering herself, Santana plastered the best smile she could muster, “That’s amazing. I’m really happy for your Britt – for both of you.” 

Quinn leaned in discreetly, smiling through clenched teeth and speaking low enough that only Santana could hear, “Tell that to your face.” 

Much to Santana’s gratitude, Quinn steered the conversation into more mundane territory as they finished their meal. Santana called the cheque before her plate was even clear and threw a handful of breadsticks in her purse.

“So you guys should totally come over later for the gingerbread thing.”

“Yeah sounds fun.” 

“Britt’ll text you the time and directions.” 

Brittany nodded from beside Sam, fidgeting with the straps of her bag. 

“See you guys later.” She offered with a tiny wave. 

“Nice meeting you both.” Sam called over his shoulder as he moved toward his truck. 

“You too.” Quinn called but Santana just gave an abrupt wave in response. 

*

“Ugh” Santana groaned, flopping face down on to her bed. 

“I think that went pretty well.”

Santana rolled over only enough to find Quinn sitting at her desk chair, trying to figure out if she was joking; when she didn’t see any hint of jest on her face Santana sat upright. 

“You’re kidding?”

Quinn shook her head, “No, the food was good, the company was decent. All in all I think it went well.” 

“Quinn, that was literal torture.” Santana deadpanned. 

“Only because you’re in love with your best friend,” Quinn smirked, “For those of us not dealing with the torment of unrequited love had a lovely time.” 

Santana responded by throwing a pillow at Quinn’s head but the other girl just laughed. 

“Oh come on Santana, where’s your sense of humour? You’re gonna have to find it eventually or it’s going to be a very long two weeks.” 

Santana flopped down on her bed again, trying to shake the hollow pit that had formed in her stomach at Quinn’s word – unrequited.

*

“Hey.” Brittany greeted them at the door with a smile, pulling Santana into a warm hug on instinct. Santana hugged her back firmly, taking in the smell of her lavender shampoo and her fruity perfume, it must have lasted a beat too long because Quinn cleared her throat just as Sam approached the group. 

“Great, you’re here!” He cheered, raising his red solo cup in the air and flinging an arm carelessly over Brittany’s shoulders. Santana smiled politely, chancing a glance at Brittany only to find Brittany’s eyes glued to the spot between her and Quinn where their fingers linked together by their pinkies. Quinn couldn’t have known of course, that this was another one of their things, she had only done it as a gesture in the act with she saw Sam embrace Brittany, nevertheless Santana pulled her way under the guise of scratching her nose; Quinn didn’t seem to mind. 

“Where should we set up?” Quinn asked, lifting the grocery bag of supplies up.

“Right over here, c’mon, I’ll introduce you and get you guys some drinks.” Sam removed his arm from around Brittany and used it to wave the girls over toward a small group of people packed into the cramped living space. 

Sam whistled, silencing the group. Santana looked around at their waiting faces, recognising a few of them from high school. 

“Some of you may already know her, but for those you that don’t, this is Brittany’s BFF, Santana.” He gestured at Santana who offered an awkward wave which the group returned a long with some mumbled hellos. “And this,” Sam turned, moving out of the way to reveal Quinn who had hidden behind them, “Is her beautiful girlfriend, Elaine.” 

The glare Santana shot his way must have been perceived as jealousy as Brittany quickly sidled up next to her. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” She whispered against the shell of Santana’s ear causing her to quiver. 

“Elaine, Santana, this is Mike and his girlfriend Tina,” Santana recognised the girl from school and if the death stare she was receiving in return was any indication, Tina recognised her too. “Marley, Jake, Kurt, and that’s– “ 

“Blaine?!” Santana squealed with more excitement than she intended. 

Blaine, with his unmoving gelled hair, and staple bowtie smiled in that same boyishly handsome way he always had and moved towards her with open arms, “It’s good to see you Santana.” 

She hugged him tightly, glad to see a friendly face. 

“And you Elaine.?” He turned to Quinn, engulfing her in a hug that she was entirely unprepared for. 

“Nice to meet you.” She croaked, tapping him awkwardly on the back. Santana pried Blaine back, shooting Quinn an apologetic look. 

“She’s not a big hugger.” 

Blaine threw his hands in the air and mouthed ‘sorry’. 

Quinn laughed, “It’s ok, I’m starting to get used to it around it.” 

“I bet!” Blaine chuckled. “You must be something special for Santana to bring you home. Santana doesn’t even bring herself home.” 

He nudged his hip playfully against Santana’s. 

“I know, I know I’m a terrible person.” Santana admitted, waving him off. 

“Hey Kurt, c’mere.” Blaine beckoned over a flamboyantly dressed man with perfectly porcelain skin and expensive shoes. “I want you to meet Santana.” 

“Charmed.” Kurt offered his hand delicately at Santana who shook the offered fingers tentatively. 

“Santana was one of my best friends in high school. We were on the cheerleading team together.” He turned to Quinn, “I was basically coerced and blackmailed into joining but Santana showed me the ropes and it ended up being one of my favourite clubs.” 

“Kinda like me with women.” Quinn joked but at the horrified looks on the men’s faces quickly clarified, “showed me the ropes I mean. Not the blackmail and coercion.” 

Both men laughed. 

“Santana’s your first?” Brittany’s voice piped up from behind them. She had gone to the kitchen to fix them some drinks which she handed them both, an expectant look on her face. 

Quinn’s laughter faded and she looked uncomfortable, realizing that she probably shouldn’t have divulged that information in case Santana had told Brittany otherwise. 

“Yep! Just couldn’t resist me.” Santana stepped in, placing a playful kiss to Quinn’s cheek. 

Quinn rolled her eyes but shrugged, “Guilty.” 

Brittany looked curiously between the pair for a moment; Santana couldn’t read the expression on her face but it wasn’t a happy one ¬– she desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. She held back as the others made their way to the dining area.

“You ok, B?” 

“Hmm?” Brittany shook her head. “Of course.” 

“You sure?” 

“Is Elaine bi?” 

Santana was taken aback by the bluntness of the question and even more surprised by Brittany’s tone – she sounded pissed. 

“Yeah?” She made up on the spot. Real Elaine had identified as a lesbian, but Santana had never known Quinn to have been with a woman, and since she was planning on claiming an amicable break up once all this was over, and figured Brittany and Quinn’s path were likely to cross again someday, she didn’t really want to explain why Quinn-Elaine was now dating a man out of the blue should that be the case. 

“Hmm.” Brittany hummed again. Her face was poised but there was a fire in her eyes that Santana had only seen a handful of times before. 

“Is– Brittany, is Elaine’s sexuality a problem for you?” 

Santana felt suddenly defensive. This wasn’t like Brittany. Her Brittany was open and loving and accepting of everyone.

“What? Of course not!” Brittany looked offended that she would even make the suggestion, folding her arms across her chest and refusing to meet Santana’s stare, spitting angrily, “But I thought it was for you.” 

Santana scrunched her brow together.

“Why would it be a problem for–“ she cut herself off a night of heartbroken, drunken ramblings flooding her memory. “Britt, that was a long time ago…” 

“You seemed pretty definite back then.” 

Santana’s gaze fell to the floor, “I was young. It was a stupid thing to say.”

A knock sounded at the door, Brittany looked over her shoulder, realising Sam wasn’t going to get it. 

“Yeah, it was.” 

She left Santana standing there, feeling ashamed for words she had all but forgotten, a conversation that was hazy to her, clouded from alcohol, and which faded more with passing time. She had reimagined it in her own way, rewrote the narrative in her mind, but she couldn’t escape it, not really. 

“Santana?” A familiar voice broke Santana from her musings, prickling the hairs at the back of her neck, she turned its direction. He looked the same, but older, he sported a sort of goatee that didn’t look entirely terrible, and his glasses were trendier than the ones he used to wear, his hair was more or less the same though not straightened within an inch of its life, but his penchant for ugly sweaters seemed to have remained. 

“Artie.” She nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I didn’t know you were back in town for the holidays.” 

“Guess you missed the memo.” She knew her tone was unnecessarily harsh but it was a reflex when it came to him. 

Brittany re-joined them in the living room accompanied by a shorter blonde woman with a tight ponytail and an even tighter smile. 

“Kitty, this is Santana.” Artie introduced. 

“Hello.” Kitty greeted, though her tone was clipped and unwelcoming. Santana could tell with just that one word that this girl could give her a run for her money in the ice queen category but she didn’t have the energy tonight. 

“Nice to meet you, Kitty.” 

“We should go join the others in the kitchen, I think they’ve already started.” 

Kitty took the handles of Artie’s wheelchair and pushed him in the direction of the kitchen; Brittany moved to follow but Santana caught her hand and pulled her back. 

“Britt, can we talk? Please?” 

Brittany released a heavy sigh, “Not tonight.”

Santana deflated. How could things have gone so wrong already? She’d barely been home 24 hours. 

Brittany squeezed her hand, encouraging Santana to look at her. 

“I’m sorry, I overreacted.” 

“You didn’t–“

Brittany held her free hand up to silence Santana. 

“I did a little bit. And now is not the time or place for it. So let’s just have fun ok? I’ve missed my best friend.” 

With their still joined hands, Brittany pulled Santana closer, wrapping both arms around her. 

“I missed you too.” 

The evening passed with ease after that. Santana and Brittany sat close together while decorating their gingerbread houses, whispering private jokes to each other every now and then, Sam didn’t seem to notice, happily occupied with his friends and his beers; and Quinn seemed content to be in the thick of it all. Santana wondered exactly what Christmas at home was like for Quinn, she made a mental note to ask her about it later. 

“This isn’t turning out how I’d pictured it.” Brittany said, disappointed that her gingerbread house didn’t look like the image she’d pulled up on her phone. Sam looked over her shoulder and laughed.

“Maybe if you turned it upside down.” 

It was a joke and everyone but Santana laughed as she felt Brittany’s shoulder drop beside her. She nudged her body lightly against Brittany’s and pointed to the picture on her own phone, “Mine doesn’t look like it’s supposed to either, but I think ours are better.” 

This garnered a smile from Brittany.

“Me too.” 

/ 

People began to say their goodbyes around 11, but Santana was trying to think of a reason to stay. She didn’t want to be away from Brittany at all, and she certainly didn’t want to leave her alone with Sam – what if they had sex? Santana cringed. 

“You guys want some help with the clean-up?” 

Brittany and Quinn gave her funny looks, both knowing how out of character this was for Santana. 

“Nah, we’re good.” Sam declined around a yawn. “We’ll take care of it in the morning.” 

Santana stood up and started to gather the empty solo cups, “Why put off until tomorrow what you can do today?”

If her offer to clean didn’t already make her seem insane, the enthusiastic cliché she supplied certainly did. Brittany laughed. 

“Seriously San, it’s fine. I’ll tidy tomorrow.”

Santana didn’t like that Brittany implied she would be the one cleaning up Sam’s apartment, but it was too late to pick a fight, and Brittany wouldn’t have liked it.

“OK, well I guess we’ll get going then.” She clasped her hands together behind her back and swayed awkwardly on the spot. 

Brittany stood from where she had been sat on the couch and opened her arms to pull Santana into a hug, the stayed joined for a beat longer than was necessary before Brittany pulled away and moved to hug Quinn. Sam approached Santana with a wide smile and open arms but Santana just extended her right hand for him to shake – the very last thing she wanted was to have the scent of Sam Evans all over her for the remainder of the night, and she was too tired to shower before bed. 

“Thanks for having us.” Quinn said, stepping next to Santana and linking their arms. 

/

“What was that earlier?” Quinn quizzed when they were safely out of earshot. 

“What was what?”

“Brittany. She seemed upset when I made that joke about you showing me the ropes..” 

“Did she? I didn’t notice.” Santana lied.


End file.
